Indigo
by ms.indigo
Summary: The streets can be an unforgiving mistress, and no one knows this better than Bella Swan. Swooped up by a rich benefactor to work as a go-go dancer, she is thrust into a world where dollar bills make the world go 'round. But Carlisle is about to turn the reins over to his son, and this bronze-haired beau only has eyes for our own Miss Indigo. Rated for explicit content. AU, AH


**_Indigo_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, but the plot and the alterations are all mine.**

**Chapter One - The Inn**

The music pulsed loudly in my ears, the rhythm moving my body by itself. I twisted around the pole that I'd learned was my only friend over the years. High school, yes. College, no. _After Charlie died... _I shook that thought away and put my mind back into my dance. I leaned backwards, winking at an elderly white man who held in his hand a crisp ten dollar bill. _He's a keeper!_ I thought. I slowly, sensually made my way over to him on my hands and knees, then put my hands in the air, gyrating my hips slowly. He grinned delusively, missing some front teeth. _Come on, mother fucker, put the ten in the garter. _He did, allowing his fingertips to dip a little too low, so I swiveled away from him, tipping my Sailor hat with a wink. The music ended and I blew the man a little kiss, hating myself for it.

I sashayed off stage, even though my feet ached from the five inch heels I was wearing and my tight little sailor outfit was squeezing me in all the wrong places. I hopped off stage and was face to face with Alice. She was wearing some ridiculous peacock outfit or something. There were too many feathers and her lips were the brightest Barbie pink I think I'd ever seen. Gag.

"Hey!" she chirped. Shrill, happy, unwavering. Alice. Or Bunny as her fans called her. Not my cup of tea, but hey, to each their own.

"Hi." I moved past her, pulling my hair out of my face. Somehow the loose bun had managed to fall free, and the blue strands were pissing me off.

"I'm so nervous!" she squealed. Oh yeah, it was her first night. I pulled my hair away from my face and accepted a bottle of water from Carlisle, the club owner, who also happened to be Alice's benefactor.

"Thanks," I muttered to Carlisle and his response was a nod. "Barbie! Hey! I need to talk to you!" Carlisle patted Alice on the back and slid behind her towards Rosalie, his other benefactor. Ah, Barbie. The bitch you love to hate.

"Talk to you in a bit, Indigo," he called back to me. Because that's the name I chose. Two years ago, when I was homeless and hungry. But we'll get to that later.

"Don't be nervous," I told Alice, taking her small hand into mine." It's easy. Just pretend you're at home dancing in front of the mirror where no one can even see you. I'll tell Em to turn up the lights a bit, so that you can't see the men as well, okay?" Alice nodded gratefully, her headdress – or whatever – falling off. "And if I may suggest something? Lose the headdress." She pulled it off quickly, shook her short hair out. Em's voice came over the P.A.

"For your enjoyment, our newest little vixen, Bunny Rabbit!" Scattered applause and cat calls. I rolled my eyes. Fucking men. Alice pranced towards the stage.

"It's just BUNNY!" she hissed to herself before ascending the stairs. I smirked at that, before hurrying to the dressing room so I could change. There were 4 girls besides myself – Angela (Angel), Rosalie (Barbie), Jessica (Sunshine), and Alice (Bunny). Yeah, there's _other_ girls, but the five of us pretty much stuck together. Best way to avoid drama. And Rosalie could bring some drama in a nano-second.

All the girls were sitting at their vanities. Mine was on the left, between Alice's and Angela's. I plopped down next to Angela with sigh, pulling the felt blue peep-toes off of my feet. I smiled a bit in satisfaction as I rubbed my sore feet. Heels had never been my friends. And no telling how many injuries I got once I started dancing on a pole. Holy workout! I pulled out my earrings, glancing at Angela out of the corner of my left eye.

"You up next?" She nodded, her dark hair gleaming white in the dim fluorescent light. Looking at her reflection, she tousled her hair a bit with her hands.

"Yeah." She held up a compact and scrutinized her face, lips pursing. She turned to me suddenly.

"Oh my gosh, did you hear?" she gushed. I grabbed a wet cloth and began to scrub the make-up off my face. I raised a brow.

"Hear what?"

"Carlisle's other sons are going to be taking over! Car wants to settle down." She dabbed at her cheeks with a blush brush. My eyes widened.

"His sons? Why?" I asked. My hands shook slightly as I dabbed a bit of perfume behind my ears. Angela gave me a knowing look. Last time I had met Carlisle's sons, I had been a newbie, fresh off the streets of Forks with a chip on my shoulder and a bad hair-do. He'd seen something in me, but his sons... They had adopted an opinion on Car's business long before I came along. The blonde and the bronze had looked at me like something they'd stepped in.

"I've heard all kinds of things. I don't know what to believe. It's best just to figure it out on our own, right?" I nodded.

"I suppose." I cleared my throat, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail before methodically putting all of my bills in order. You could always tell the type of person by how their money looked. Business men usually forked over crisp fives, tens, or twenties. Occasionally, a high-roller would tuck a hundred, usually folded in a way that the currency couldn't be identified. Crumpled bills came from middle-class, working men of all types. Most had wives and children and came in with a couple of friends. The regulars, the ones I liked to refer to as 'the floaters' because they seemed to coast in and out of places like this, always had the same – ones. Faded, worn... but spendable nonetheless.

"Good night?" Angela inquired, her heavyily-lidded eyes taking in the small mountain of green tender. I shrugged.

"Eh, sorta." That was code for 'yes, but I'm not going to tell you how much'. All the girls at "The Inn" as we had dubbed it, had their own preferences for how they handled their business. Some, such as Alice and myself, kept our earnings to ourselves to prevent theft and jealousy. The others flaunted it, which was just as well, because I knew I was making more. Maybe not more than Rosalie, but there had been rumors that she'd go beyond the call of duty, if you know what I mean.

I'd counted $204 total, and for five hours, that's a killing. I put the money in order and stuffed into my sequined wallet (courtesy of Alice, who swore it was a fashion crime to be seen with the beat up brown coin purse I'd been sporting), and went to change my clothes.

I hoisted my satchel onto my shoulder and headed to the private washroom in the back. Something you should know about my satchel– it's the equivalent of my life in a bag. Always two changes of clothes, a pair of old high-tops, toothbrush, deodorant, tampons, hair brush, crackers, a bottle of water, keys to my little apartment atop the Inn, a copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_, a tiny pink iPod. See? My life in a bag.

I hurriedly changed into a pair of worn, comfy jeans and a large gray off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. Sure, I wouldn't be winning any beauty contests, but the show was over for the night. I said my goodbye's the girls, waved at Carlisle as I passed the bar, and thrust myself out into the brisk, night air.

Now, I was just Bella again. And I kind of liked being Bella.

**A/N: **Okay, it was just a small taste. I want to know what you guys think. So, please R&R.


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